


Who We Are

by inthemiddleofnowhere13



Category: Revenge (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 12:23:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3728824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inthemiddleofnowhere13/pseuds/inthemiddleofnowhere13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a new detective in town, and he doesn’t trust anyone in the Hamptons. Especially Emily Thorne and Nolan Ross.<br/>After the truth about the frame up of David Clarke blew out, followed by Conrad Grayson’s sudden murder, South Hamptons had never been more hideous in Detective Lancelot Irwin’s eyes. </p><p>Landing the infamous former governor’s murder case, the detective entangles himself with the twisted, corrupt, and ugly side of South Hamptons. Now, where do Ms. Emily Thorne, and her apparent sidekick, Mr. Nolan Ross, fit into this puzzle?</p><p> </p><p>Set after Conrad Grayson’s shocking demise. The past remains the same, but the plot differs after the murder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Detective Lancelot Irwin

Detective Lancelot Irwin hated South Hamptons. He had been a homicide detective in the New York Police Department for five years and it had been his home for ten, so transferring to South Hamptons must be one of the worst things that ever happened to him.

South Hamptons is filled with spoiled brats, pompous rich people, and melodramatic socialites. It is the home of vicious back-stabbers and traitors who’d do anything to drag each other down for the sake of fame, money, and power. So, nope.  It’s too much drama for his taste. He would rather face nasty gang members, violent mobsters, dangerous killers, and such. They, at least, have the audacity to tell you that they are going to hunt you down and kill you (so you better watch your back), while these South Hamptons people are very good liars.  Treachery and deceit are just some of their specialties. He’d rather scout dirty and dark alleyways than attend expensive parties and exchange pleasantries with the plastics. 

Everyone back in the department just laughed at him when he pointed out his thoughts about South Hamptons. They all thought he had issues with rich people in general and that he was just being paranoid. They aren’t entirely wrong…but that doesn’t mean his stereotype of those people is incorrect either. He was still trying to change the Director’s mind back then. But of course, the latter just hated him so much and just loved to make Detective Irwin’s life a living hell so the transfer went through quickly and smoothly. The Director really had it out for him.

Detective Irwin never trusted anyone in South Hamptons, not even his colleagues. He only talks to them during and regarding work. However, if he really is forced to trust anyone, it will only be a few people: his partner Senior Detective Henry Fields, the HPD coroner and chief of the Forensics Department Dr. Lila Walter, and HPD’s Director Jake Ruxton. It must be his paranoia acting out but aside from work, he doesn’t really get out of his apartment. He buys groceries and cooks for himself. Better safe than sorry.

Six months, two weeks, and three days later, Detective Lancelot Irwin still hated South Hamptons with deep passion. Just as he expected, these people are unbearable. Most of the cases he handled were accidental deaths and self-defense cases. One thing he couldn’t understand is why these people do not hire full-time body guards. They are filthy rich and not having guards with and around them is just plain stupid. Just because they have money and power do not mean they are invincible to bullets, knives, poison, and other objects that could cause blunt-force traumas. The only thing that’s keeping him sane in the damn county is the murder cases. The legit murder cases with real motives. He always liked the thrill of uncovering mysteries and putting the puzzles together, but the real catch is when he has the murderers cornered. They always think they can buy the law. The desperate faces they have on when they realize they cannot slip out of this one is really priceless and Detective Irwin keeps those in his mind as trophies. But aside from that, another glorious moment he can bask in is when dirty cops get caught. They’re the reason why these rich bastards think they are indestructible in the first place. And because of these, he actually made several enemies both inside and outside the department. Not that he cares. It’ll actually be better if he got transferred out of this hell place. But of course, that’s not gonna happen…not yet anyway.

Work, overtime, food, sleep – Detective Irwin’s whole routine. If he won’t get transferred soon, he’s definitely going to retire early, if he doesn’t go insane first…but he knows they won’t let him go. Because, bragging aside, everyone in both departments admit that he’s one of the best in the field…with or without his _special talent_. But fuck them. He was probably going to die of boredom.  

But everything changed when he got involved with the Conrad Grayson Murder Case. Well, forced into it to be exact. He was supposed to be on leave and he was already at the airport with his ticket back to New York when the director hastily called him back. Damn these people. He wished he didn’t pick up the stupid phone. Yeah, he shouldn’t have answered the damn call.


	2. Chapter 1: The New Queen and her Jester

 

The moment Victoria Grayson’s hasty departure reached the ears of every citizen of South Hamptons, Emily Thorne was deemed the ‘new queen’. Not just because she’s one of the wealthiest people in town but because she currently owns the biggest mansion in the Hamptons: the Grayson Manor. But of course, that was just its former name. And it is currently under renovation…yes, the _whole_ manor is under renovation. Apparently, the new queen wanted to wipe out any trace the former had left in it.

Emily Thorne still resides in the beautiful beach house down the manor until the renovations are finished. And that’s where Detectives Fields and Irwin went to find her.

After three knocks, Emily opened the door.

“Good morning, Ms. Thorne. I am Detective Henry Fields and this here is Detective Lance Irwin. We have a few questions we’d like to ask you.”

The blonde woman seemed surprised but Lance thought otherwise. There was something about this woman; something mysterious and devious. She’s definitely someone he would never trust.

Henry sent him a questioning glance. _Did you flash on anything?_

The younger shook his head no. Maybe the information’s too little for his _special talent_ to work.

“Is this about Aiden Matthis’s death? Because I already told the police everything.”

There it is again. She asks things that she already knows the answer to. She already knows why they’re here. She may be able to fool Henry but Lance sees right through her.

Lance decided to play by her game, “No, Ms. Thorne. We just want to ask a few questions about Conrad Grayson’s murder.”

“Oh, I don’t know if I could be of any help. Daniel and I had been separated for almost a year now. I haven’t talked to my ex-father-in-law since then.”

Lance gave her his famous ‘reassuring-with-hidden-agenda-smile’, “It’s just a few routine questions, ma’am.”

Emily raised a brow at him, scrutinizing and assessing if this man is going to cause her trouble in the future, until she finally stepped back and welcomed them into her home.

The younger detective does not want to spend more time in this woman’s company. He can feel that she is dangerous. It’s not that he’s afraid of her, he just doesn’t want to complicate his already approved leave of absence if he starts to dig deeper. The faster they get on with the interviews, the quicker they are to closing this case, and the nearer he is to getting to his vacation.

“Would you like some tea or coffee?”, the blonde offered them as they settled down in the living room.

He knew his partner was going to ask for a cup of coffee, so he beat him to it, “We won’t be staying for long, Ms. Thorne. We actually have a long list of people to interview today. Besides, we wouldn’t want to keep you from seeing through the renovations of _your_ manor.”

He felt Henry’s glare directed at him for rejecting free coffee. Henry hadn’t had one that morning since they were in a hurry to get on with the interviews.

Emily just nodded, “Very well, detective. What would you like to know?”

“While you were still residing in the ma-”

They were abruptly interrupted by a loud thud of the door closing and a heavenly aroma of baked goods.

“Ems, I’ve been looking all over for you. You’re supposed to be helping me bring these…”, the blond intruder trailed off when he reached the living room and found their visitors.

He turned to Emily, expectant and confused.

“Nolan, these are Detectives Fields and Irwin. They’re here about Conrad’s murder.”

They were all talking…but Lance wasn’t listening to them anymore. His mind was already lost elsewhere.

_Laughing, lovely eyes. Ivory hands gripping on blond hair. Heated skin on skin. Soft chuckles. Whispered nothings. Lips parting. Tongues entwined. Limbs entangled. Passion._

The flashes stopped, like they always do when his mind becomes confused with the information.

Sweat started forming on his forehead. His lips and mouth were dry. He seemed to have developed a migraine.

He was caught off-guard when the flashes started again.

_Sweet smiles. Kiss on the forehead. Tanned fingers on red hair. Head on warm chest. Love._

He closed his eyes and forced the flashes to stop.

This was his _special talent._ Ever since he was young, his empathy with other people and even with animals was _extraordinary_. He can feel and think like they do.

But things became…more _bizarre_ when he reached junior high. The flashes began.

Flashes of someone’s past and present. He’s not a psychic. He couldn’t really tell someone his/her past, and present. The flashes that he sees are like splices of different few-seconds-clips from different movies. He doesn’t know which one is the present, or the past. All his _special_ _talent_ could provide him for sure is someone’s personality. And then he can empathize.

But this…this is different. He knows they aren’t this man’s past, not even his present…they are all glimpses of his future. This is the first time he had visions of someone’s future. And what’s more confusing and disturbing is that…Lance is included in it.

“…should proceed, Irwin.”

Henry’s voice pulled him back to reality.

The guy called Nolan was already sitting on the couch across him, his basket of muffins on the center table in front of them.

They were all looking at him. Waiting and wary. But there was a spark of interest and something else in Emily’s eyes. Same goes with Nolan’s. Lance doesn’t like them. He doesn’t like them a bit.

“I think I should insist on offering you both something to drink. I’m pretty sure you’ll love Nolan’s blueberry muffins. They’re the best.”

Blueberry muffins. Fuck. They are Lance’s favorite.

Worried that his partner would turn it down again, Henry was faster to comply, “I’d like a cup of coffee, please. Just give this guy a glass of water. His stomach doesn’t go well with anything else in the morning.”

Emily nodded and disappeared back into the kitchen.

All Lance could do is stare at the muffins and stop himself from salivating. God. He’s already starving.

He heard Nolan laugh.

“They’re not going to offer themselves, Detective Irwin,” Nolan took a muffin and placed it on a small pastry plate, “Here you go. I promise they’re good. You can take some with you if you like.”

Lance took the plate from him, “Thank you.”

He cursed his weakness for baked things as he took a bite. Fuck. It’s good…no, it’s _great_. Fuck. Somehow, he knows that he’s going to be receiving a lot of muffins by the way Nolan looks at him. His whole attention was finally captured by the muffin after his third bite. If he wasn’t too busy inwardly marveling at the delicious pastry, he would’ve noticed Nolan’s predatory smirk.

 

 


	3. Chapter 2: Blueberry Muffins

 

 

The interview took an hour…well, the interview itself was done in thirty minutes, as for the other thirty minutes…they were eating muffins, and drinking coffee and tea. It was like having a tea party and Detective Lance Irwin hated himself for being a part of it. He even felt more disgusted with himself as he glared at the basket of muffins on his lap.

Henry briefly glanced at him and chuckled, “Awww…don’t look so glum, Lance. It was a nice tea party. I know you love baked goods, but I didn’t realize just how much. Who would’ve thought that the cold Detective Lance Irwin could blush like a girl when someone offers him his sixth muffin?”

Lance glared at him, “Just shut up and keep driving, Fields. If this comes out, I swear I’m going to skin you alive and drain your blood, while making you watch.”

“Ok, ok. I’m just glad I’m your partner. Never thought I’d see the day tha-. Fine. Stop trying to kill me with your glares. I’m starting to think that it’s working.”

“Just focus on driving.”

“Anyway, did you flash on him?”

“Wh-what?”

“When you saw Nolan Ross, you became quiet and you were staring blankly at him, you know. You were pale and you looked constipated. Just like you do when you get flashes.”

Lance flushed as he remembered the damn flashes he had about Nolan. He felt like a pervert.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

"…they can’t be trusted. Both of them."

“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. They were involved in many suspicious things in the past. And now Emily’s the ‘new queen’ and Nolan’s her ‘jester.’”

“I don’t want to get involved with them. I just hope I won’t be seeing them ever again.”

“Then it’s a good thing you had your basket of muffins. Hey, give me some, too, will ya?”

Lance rolled his eyes, “Shut up and drive, Fields.”

======================================================

“You like him,” Emily smirked as she saw the two detectives drive away.

“Who?” Nolan leaned back on the couch and raised a brow at the blonde woman.

“You know who, Nolan. You gave detective _Irwin_ a basket of your prized muffins,” she gave emphasis to the name and added a teasing snort.

“I have more baskets back home. I baked a lot of them this morning."

“You’re interested in him,” she pushed, “I saw the way you looked at him. You were practically _feeding_ him the muffins.”

Nolan grinned and laid his head back on the couch, “Oh, Ems, my love life is waaayy out of your business.

Emily rolled her eyes, and sat beside him, “I just want you to be happy, Nols…after everything we’ve been through…after everything I’ve put you through, you deserve to be happy with someone.”

The older gave him a genuine smile, “Kiddo, you didn’t put me through anything that I didn’t know was dangerous. I made my own decisions and they involved helping and protecting you. And I _am_ happy with you…we finally cleared your father’s name! And the Graysons got what they deserve…although, Conrad’s quick death was a bit unfair. He should’ve suffered more in prison.”

“I don’t even want to talk and to think about them anymore,” her face twisted in disgust before she continued with a thoughtful tone; “I’m serious with what I said earlier. Your love life needs to be more stable than just random one-night stands.”

“They are not _random_ _one-night_ stands. I meticulously picked them out from _random_ bars. And I just don’t date twice,” he turned to face her, “Why are you interested with the cute muffin-loving detective anyway?”

“He’s good for you…well, he was acting suspicious when they first came, but when you and your muffins arrived …his reaction was just…”

“Adorable,” Nolan supplied with the most Un-Emily-like wording, and laughed when the other rolled her eyes.

“He seemed ridiculously happy to see the muffins.”

“Which was _adorable_ because he’s a serious-looking, no-nonsense type of detective?”

Emily laughed, “If you put it that way. I think he can ground you with all your ridiculousness.”

“It’s called fashion and lifestyle, Ems.”

“Right. And I think you can keep him grounded, too. He seemed too tense.”

“It’ll be nice to have someone again.”

Emily smiled sadly as she remembered the last three times Nolan fell in love. The first was Tyler, a psychotic prostitute, who died when he attempted to murder her ex-husband. The second was Padama, a woman who was also killed when she got entangled between Nolan and Emily, and Conrad’s shady organization. And the last and the most intense relationship he had was with the enemy’s son, Patrick. Caught in the crossfire between Emily and Victoria, Nolan knew it would end badly but he still fell in love. And when Nolan falls in love, his techno and intelligent mind just turns off.

“I know what you’re thinking. I’ve long since accepted the tragedy of my romantic relationships. I have a feeling that Mr. Detective will make the cut, but you know I really love the tragedy.”

The blonde smirked, “You know, the best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

 Nolan just chuckled, “I feel like a teenager getting dating tips from his mom.”


	4. Chapter 3: Flashes, Visions and Denials

 

               Lancelot was in a bad mood the whole day. He didn’t flash on anyone, which meant he couldn’t forget about the last ones he had. And it didn’t help when his partner keeps on calling him ‘muffin-hearted’.

                Why the hell was _he_ even in that perverted…vision? He doesn’t even know who Nolan Ross was until today. And the latter is a citizen of Hamptons, one of the worst at that. He feels it in his gut that this man is bad news, same goes to his close friend Emily Thorne. So, no way is that vision going to come true.

                “Whoa! Lance, we just went past the station." Henry said as he looked at his partner curiously and back at Hamptons Police Department. Ever since they interviewed Ms. Thorne and Mr. Ross, Lance had been…different. It has got to do something about the flash Lance had earlier, he was sure of it.

                Lance doesn’t seem to hear him because he is still driving. The younger looked so focused on driving, drowning out everything else, including his partner.

                “Damn it, Lance! Where are we going?!” the older finally snapped when Lance showed no signs of stopping.

                “What? Don’t yell at me. Geez.”

                “Mind telling me where we’re going?”

                “Back to the station house. Where else?”

                “Uh-huh. And where are we now exactly?”

                Lance glanced around, “The Police Cafeteria,” he frowned and stopped the car.

                “Which is three blocks away from the station house. Don’t look at me like that. You’re the one driving and I’ve been trying get your attention ever since we got past the station.”

                The younger let out a frustrated sigh as he took a right turn. They’re going to have to drive around to get back to the station, since they are on a one way road.

                “Mind telling me what’s going on in that chaotic mind of yours?” Henry asked.

                “’Chaotic mind of yours’? You sound like my junior high literary teacher,” the other laughed.

                “And you’re deflecting.”

                “It’s just three blocks.”

                “You’re still deflecting.”

                “I’ve got nothing in my ‘chaotic mind’, okay?”

                “Stop bullshitting me, junior. You’ve been distracted ever since we interviewed Ms. Thorne and Mr. Ross.”

                The younger sighed, “I’m just tired and a bit pissed. As you know, I was already in the airport when the director called me in. I was supposed to be on vacation.”

                “Well, I’m sorry you got dragged into this mess then,” Henry filled his words with sarcasm.

                “You asked and I answered. What do you want from me?”

                Henry looked at him, “Lancelot, you’ve been here for what? Six to seven months already. It’s time you accept your transfer.”

                “Not this again. I did my job, splendidly must I say, and now I _need_ this vacation.”

                “No. You’re running away,” Henry turned to him, giving the younger his full attention, “Lance, why do you really hate this place? This isn’t just because of your paranoia towards rich people.”

                Lance glanced briefly at his partner, “I’m not paranoid.”

                “You’re just going to keep deflecting, aren’t you?”

                The other just pursed his lips and focused solely on driving.

 

                It’s been exactly three days since they started interviewing people who knew Conrad Grayson. So far, they have no leads, not even a definite suspect. All they had were people with motives, but no opportunities and no means. Lance is getting frustrated. He inwardly cursed their director. He liked director Ruxton, but he can see that the latter is taking advantage of him by dragging him away from his already approved leave. Lance isn’t even the lead investigator. His partner is…if he doesn’t like Henry even a bit, he’d have dumped everything on the older.

                “Why the fuck does everyone has an alibi?” he groaned at his partner as they waited on the bar stool for their drinks.

                “We just haven’t found our guy yet.”

                “No. Maybe we did but someone’s just covering for him…or her.”

                Henry frowned at him, “What do you mean?”

                “Nothing.”

                Their bar woman interrupted before Henry could even probe further. “One beer for dear old Henry.”

                “You’re older than me.” Henry teased her.

                The bar woman stuck out her tongue at him and grinned. “Just by a few seconds.”

                Henry smirked at his twin sister and took a swig of his beer, “Still older, Harry.”

                Harry ignored him and turned to Lance.

                “And the usual Long Island Tea for our favorite detective Lancelot,” she winked at him.

                “ _Your_ favorite detective, Harry. And watch it or I might tell Bill.” Henry tipped his bottle at his twin.

                They continued their playful bickering, and Lance laughed while watching them. He missed his older sister even more now. He sighed as he is reminded of his long awaited vacation. If he hadn’t answered the call, he’d be at Leila’s house drinking whatever mixes the she thinks of, while they chat the night and dawn away.

                Lance took a sip of his cocktail and forced his longing back deep into his mind. This is not the time to be emotional and be vulnerable. Not in front of these strangers. Instead, he looks up at the television screen hanging above the bar.

                The news anchor came up as she reported the nightly news. South Hamptons is still shaken up by the murder of their former governor Conrad Grayson. There’s still no arrests made, and everyone is pressuring the police. No wonder Ruxton asked him back here. Lance is pretty sure that even if he did ignore the call, Ruxton will personally drag him from New York back to South Hamptons. Damn these people and their thirst for drama.

                “Stop glaring at the screen. It won’t make the murder undo itself, you know,” Henry swiveled his stool to face the younger.

                “Leave me alone, Henry. I’m still pissed that I was dragged into this. This is _your_ case.”

                “And you’re my partner.”

                “I was supposed to be on vacation.”

                “Yup. _Supposed_ to be. And I believe we already had this conversation before.”

                Lance glared at him before he sipped on his drink again. “I haven’t had any flashes. I don’t think I could be of any help.”

                “Speaking of flashes, you still haven’t told me about what you had ‘flashed’ on Mr. Ross.”

                The younger flinched at the name. He did everything to forget about the blond man. He’s been avoiding to see his face on the TV, magazines, internet, and to even hear his name. He’s quite afraid that more flashes will come if he does see him or hear his name. “I already told you.”

                “No. You told me they can’t be trusted but you didn’t exactly tell me what you saw.”

                “Nothing worth repeating,” he said with finality in his voice.

                The older sighed in defeat. He knew he won’t be able to get anything out of his partner no matter how much he pushed. The younger can be very stubborn and defiant when he wants to. And it never fails to annoy him. “Fine. Whatever, junior. If you say so.”

                Lance was about to change the topic when he saw the sudden change in Henry’s expression. It was subtle and minimal but he caught it nonetheless. The stupid jerk is secretly delighted about something.

                Henry tried his best to stop himself from laughing when he saw the familiar mop of blond hair entering the bar. The said man didn’t seem to notice them for he was looking for an empty booth. Henry masked any sudden change of emotions on his face that he knows will alarm Lance. His partner seemed to have developed a sixth sense aside from his ‘talent’. The younger had superb observation skills which extended to people’s micro expressions. He’d know a lie before it even left your mouth. He’s that good.

                “Why are you suddenly…happy?”

                “What? An old man can’t be happy?”

                “Old man? So, you admit you’re an old man?”, Lance started to tease but his eyes are still filled with suspicion.

                Henry just smirked at him before he leaned back and raised his hand to wave at someone behind him. “Hey! Over here, Mr. Ross!”

                Lance stiffened on his seat. If looks could really kill, Henry would be dead by now. Really dead.

                “Henry”, the redhead warned, his back still turned from the approaching blond.

                “What? The booths are filled. Besides, he looks like he needs a friend tonight,” Henry grinned.

                Lance slightly turned his head around. True enough, Nolan Ross had a smile plastered on his face but his eyes were downcast. He looks tired.

                “Detectives,” Nolan grinned, “Long night ahead of you, I guess?” he asked as he settled down on the empty bar stool between Lance and Henry. He faced the bar and asked for a dry margarita.

                Henry grinned at him, “Nope. We’re off the clock. This Grayson business is driving the station house mad, as if Irwin here isn’t already doing the job perfectly.”

                Nolan looked sincerely intrigued. He turned around, leaned back on the bar, and cocked his head towards Lance. “And why is detective Irwin driving you mad?”

                The older snorted, “He blames us for ruining his vacation”

                “Vacation?”

                “He’s supposed to go to New York five days ago, but this case pulled him back here.”

                “And he blames the department?”

                “Yes! Can you believe him? It’s not like we pulled him back on purpose,” Henry paused for a moment before looking at his partner with a glint of evil teasing in his eyes. He continued, “But you know, Mr. Ross, he was more tolerable after our interview with you and Ms. Thorne.”

                Lance scowled at them, “Excuse me, in case you haven’t noticed, I am here.”

                Nolan smirked lightly at him before saying, “And why is that?”

                Lance gave Henry a warning glare, which the latter blatantly ignored. “He was too busy marveling over the muffins you made.”

                “That’s it. I’m going home.” Lance glowered at them before storming out of the bar.

                “Don’t worry about him. He’s just embarrassed.”

                Nolan chuckled, “He loved the muffins that much?”

                “Oh, don’t get me started. It was the first time we saw him like that. We couldn’t even find the words to explain it.”

                Nolan felt butterflies happily fluttering in his stomach. Sure, people loved what he cooked or baked, but there is something about detective Irwin’s enthusiasm about the muffins he made. He was very flattered that the detective loved them, like a teenage student in home economics class giving his crush the first cookies he baked. It was ridiculous but he liked the feeling.

                But it seems he is starting to like the other man even without Irwin’s fascination with his muffins. The first time he saw Irwin he thought Emily would be in trouble, so he was already thinking of ways to get rid of him. But as the interview went on, he felt comfortable around the guy. He actually spent most of his time a day after the interview checking the detective’s background and gathering more information. And he became more eager and determined to get closer to him. Nolan Ross definitely wants Lancelot Irwin. And Nolan always gets what he wants.

==============================================

                _Clear skies outside make the stars and the moon visible from the floor-to-ceiling glass window. Moonlight slips into the room, illuminating the peaceful but occupied space._

_The king-size bed sits distinctively in the middle of the room. A slightly stirring lump on it is the only sign of life in the still and silent room._

_Lancelot slowly and quietly walks towards the bed. Removing his suit and socks, and loosening his tie, his eyes never leaving the slumbering occupant of the room._

_When he reaches the bed, he sees the familiar face of a blond man. His lips turns into a smile as he studies the beautiful face of the man before him. Nolan Ross is really deep asleep. Lancelot is pretty sure the other man is half-naked underneath the thick cotton blanket. Apparently, the latter sleeps with only boxers on these days._

_Lancelot changes into his pajamas and brushes his teeth down in the bathroom as silently as he can. He doesn’t want to wake the other man up. Not yet anyway._

_Nolan is still sleeping on his side of the bed when the redhead comes back. Lancelot lightly slips into the bed, his chest snugly fitting the back of the blond. Lancelot snakes his arms around Nolan’s waist, and kisses the nape of his neck and shoulder._

_The blond man stirs a little before leaning comfortably back to him. “What time is it?” he asked groggily._

_“Three-thirty AM,” Lancelot whispers into his ear._

_Nolan frowns, “You’re late. Where were you?”_

_“I was in Dr. Walter’s lab. I waited for her to double check the ME reports on a case”_

_Nolan turns and looks at him, worry evident on his face. He lightly traces his thumb on the dark circles under Lance’s eyes. “Don’t overwork yourself, love. If the bad guys can sleep at night, you should, too”_

_Lance takes Nolan’s hand into his and kisses his palm before grinning, “Yes, sir,” and he playfully added, “I wouldn’t mind coming home to this, you know. You, half-naked, on my bed. In fact, I think I would be rushing home just for you”_

_Nolan lightly chuckles, he leans toward Lance to ease the gap between them. “Just half-naked?”_

_Lancelot rubs his nose to the other’s and smirked, “Oh, no, Mister Ross,” he ghosts his lips over Nolan’s cheek and up to his ear, where he whispers huskily, “I’d rather have you very naked on my bed, waiting to have a taste of me, desperate to feel yourself inside me”_

_The other moans at the thought. Nolan turns his head and captures Lance’s lips with his own.  Lance keeps the kiss light and playful as he climbs on top of his lover. He secures Nolan’s hips with his knees and slowly grinds his already throbbing member on the other’s groin. Nolan’s guttural groan makes him smirk.  Before he even notices it, Lance’s pajama top is torn open and is thrown across the room. He is about to tease Nolan’s enthusiasm, but the blond pulled him back down for another heat-filled kiss._

_Nolan’s hand reached behind Lance’s neck; his thumb caresses the sensitive spot behind Lance’s ear, making the redhead moan louder in his mouth. His other hand traces the dip of his spine down to where the cleft of his ass starts. Lance groans in frustration when his hand slips back up to his neck._

_“Honey, don’t tease me, please”_

_Nolan smirks at the man above him. His hand slipping down from the other’s neck down to his thigh. The blond kneads the flesh, chuckling at the moan that comes out of Lance’s glorious mouth._

_“It’s your punishment for making me wait”_

_“Oh, come on, Love,” with a mischievous glint in Lance’s eyes, he says “I can think of better ways to make it up to you”_

_Nolan chortles in response, “Like what?”_

_“Like wha-AH!” Lance almost squeals when a finger enters him. He gives Nolan an accusatory glare but the other just grins back at him; the blond’s fingers pushes past the familiar rings of muscles._

_Lance falls on his elbows, his head rests on Nolan’s shoulder as another finger enters him and makes scissoring motions inside him. He kisses, licks, and sucks at the skin on Nolan’s neck to mask the lewd noises he is making. But when the blond curls his fingers around the sensitive bundle of muscle inside him, series of unintelligible words and moans escapes his mouth._

_“I…I….Nolan…Please. I want you… Inside, please”. The redhead begs when Nolan keeps on abusing his prostate. The pleasure driving him insane._

_Nolan pulls him back down for a bruising kiss before he flips them around. Nolan stares at him. Lance is so beautiful, and he just can’t take his eyes off the ravishing mess under him._

_Lance stares back up at him. He is still aroused and he still wants the blond to fuck him senseless, but he knows there is something here with the way Nolan is looking at him. And he, too, loses himself in Nolan’s bright and lovely blue eyes. He strokes the other man’s flushed face with the back of his hand, his thumb grazes the heated flesh of his cheek. And the sudden urge to confirm his feelings tugs his insides. No. He can’t. He shouldn’t. And so, he pulls Nolan down and kisses him passionately to keep himself from saying something._

_But when Nolan pulls away, only to look at him again with such intensity and sincerity in his eyes. He says in a husky but serious tone, “Lancelot Irwin, I…I…I love you.”_

                Lancelot Irwin woke with a start. Just what the fuck was that dream about?! That was a fucking nightmare. He doesn’t even know Nolan Ross that well. How could he be having this kind of dream about him?! A very vivid one at that. And to make things worse, this isn’t just a wet dream…it’s a wet dream with _feelings_.

                Lancelot audibly gulped when he realized that it was not a dream. It was a _nightmare_ , but it was _not_ a dream. His ‘talent’ is surely messing up with him to be showing him this kind of vision.

                First, the flashes, and now this. No. This cannot be happening. His ‘special talent’ must be losing its…’power’…or maybe he is losing his sanity. Or his ‘talent’ is probably making him pay for abusing it most of the time. Either way, he knows what he should do. He should leave South Hamptons. And fast.


	5. Chapter 4: Evading the Jester

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those who have read and liked this fanfiction;
> 
> I AM SO SORRY FOR POSTING THIS SO LATE!  
> My laptop crashed and it was even a miracle that my friend was able to recover my files!   
> Anyway, here you go. My gift to you. Enjoy!
> 
> P.S. thank you for even dropping by :)

It’s been exactly three weeks after the…nightmare Lancelot had. Unfortunately, he hasn’t forgotten a thing about it. And he hates himself even more whenever he finds himself staring at a corner remembering every detail of that night. But what’s worse is that when he’d snap out of it, he’d be sporting a hard-on. He’d be cursing himself, Nolan Ross, and his perverted ‘talent’ while he jerks himself off in the bathroom.

Lancelot did everything he could to avoid Nolan Ross, which was pretty hard these days because it seemed like Mr. Ross and Henry had become quite close ever since they got acquainted at the bar and the two of them shared one mission: to annoy Lance to no end. The unlikely friendship resulted to Henry frequently inviting the socialite to the stationhouse during breaks and to drinks after work whenever Lance agreed to come. It is a good thing that Lance always runs late for the drinks. When he scans the place and finds the blond, he’ll call and make an excuse to ditch them. The tricky part comes when Nolan visits the stationhouse. There are times when Lance barely makes it out of the station without running into the blond. He paid the officers guarding the doors to warn him whenever Nolan Ross arrives.

He knew this tactic wouldn’t last long, but it still caught him off guard when Nolan Ross finally cornered him. In the bathroom. With his zipper down, thankfully just peeing…and not the other embarrassing thing he’s been doing most of the time in bathrooms.

“Long time no see, detective Irwin.” Nolan said good-naturedly as he took the urinal beside him.

Lance stiffened for a few seconds before immediately zipping up his pants. “What the hell are you doing here?”

The other just chuckled, “Peeing, just like you…or isn’t that what you were doing here?”

The young detective refused to look at him and went straight to the row of sinks. While he was washing his hands, Nolan once again appeared beside him.

“How’s work? Any leads on the Grayson case?” Nolan asked as he began washing his hands.

Lance instinctively looked down at the blond’s hands – at his long and beautiful fingers to be exact. He repressed a moan as he remembered how those talented fingers felt inside him. He shook his head when he realized where he’d been staring, and what he’d been imagining.

He cleared his throat and made the mistake of looking up at the blond, “Uh…what?”

Nolan almost groaned when Lance looked up at him. The young detective was blushing, his lips parted...and his eyes were glazed. How cute and hot is that? The blond clenched his hands behind him to keep them from grabbing the man.

“I was asking about the Grayson case. Have you got any new leads?”

And then the spell was broken. Lance glared at him, “You’re not supposed to know anything about an ongoing investigation. But you know, if you’re so curious, why don’t you just ask Henry? You two seem to be really close now.”

Nolan shot Lance a puzzled look before the latter stormed out of the bathroom and slammed the door shut in his face.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Goddamn it. Damn that Nolan Ross. Damn it all. Lancelot mentally cursed while looking at the small card in his hand, then at the basket of carrot and blueberry muffins on his desk. The redhead left the station after the incident with Nolan in the bathroom yesterday. He went on to interview more people on their list and did not come back to the department.

He read the message on the card again and inwardly groaned.

_“_ _Detective Irwin,_

_I’m sorry for offending you yesterday. I really did not mean to upset you._

_I hope you accept my apology, along with this peace offering._

_P.S. they’re carrot and blueberry muffins. I heard you liked carrot cake. I figured you must try the muffin version._

_-Sincerely,_

_Nolan Ross”_

Lancelot took a carrot muffin. Damn that bastard for using his weakness to manipulate him. Damn these muffins for being his weakness. Lancelot sighed. Someday this weakness of his will be the death of him. He groaned before he gave in and took a bite.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“ _He took the bait._ ” Nolan grinned at the text message Henry sent him.

Nolan leaned back on the leather couch in his living room and replied, “ _Good. I was worried they wouldn’t work_.”

“ _What did you do to deserve his wrath anyway?_ ”

“ _Well, I finally caught up to him in the bathroom yesterday. And I guess I asked the wrong question._ ”

“ _You cornered him? In the bathroom?! Wow. Only few people were able to get a hold of him when he doesn’t want to be found._ ”

This got Nolan curious, “ _Really? How come?_ ”

“ _He’s a very…meticulous guy, especially when it comes to his security. I’m not saying that you’re a risk or something. It’s just the way he is when he thinks someone is trouble. He goes all out when it comes to that. He even goes off-grid even if it’s just for a few hours._ ”

“ _I did notice that he’s a bit paranoid around people other than you. So does that mean he doesn’t trust me?_ ”

“ _He trusts only a handful of people in South Hamptons. But with you and your baking skills, you’ll be able to break those walls down. I’m sure of it._ ”

“ _I’ve been wondering about this for a long time._ _Why are you helping me get close to him, Henry?_ ”

“ _Because he’s my friend and I want him to be happy._ ”

“ _And you think I can make him happy?_ ”

“ _I don’t think it. I can see it._ ”

“ _Really? Because last time we saw each other, he had the door slammed in my face._ ”

“ _Oh, trust me. It’ll be fine. You just have to work a little bit more._ ”

“ _I’m a bit surprised that you’re even helping me with him. I don’t exactly have a good reputation here._ ”

“ _Like what I said, I can see that it’s you, of all people here in South Hamptons, who can help loosen him up. Besides, even if you do have some kind of a nasty reputation, I figured you’re a good person. Why do you think I let you hang around us?_ _We’re detectives. We make sure we got each other’s backs._ ”

“ _That’s a good speech. But, thank you, man. For trusting me._ ”

“ _It’s all good. Just make sure to give me some of those pastries, too. Lance is currently not talking to me. He could be such a kid sometimes. He thinks I’m the one who got him cornered yesterday. But don’t worry about it. I’m used to his tantrums._ ”

Nolan chuckled as he imagined Lance having a tantrum. He found it cute when he’s not the one on the receiving end. “ _Alright, Henry. Thanks again._ ”

Nolan put down his phone on the table and began searching the kitchen for his family recipes.

=================================================================

Lancelot Irwin arrived at his condominium unit a bit later than usual. Actually, if he had it his way, he’d rather stay at the station and work overtime. But the director wants him to go home and rest. Of course he argued, but Ruxton demanded he needed his detectives alive and sharp the next morning so they had to have enough sleep or else they’ll be useless to him.

Lancelot shrugged off his overcoat and hung it on the coatrack beside his front door. He lazily walked from the dark hallway into the kitchen. He didn’t bother turning the lights on. The sun was yet to set, so he could still depend on the natural lighting from the outside.

The redhead opened his fridge and took out ingredients for a pesto white-sauced pasta. While his sister is skilled in the bar, his other talents lay in the kitchen. Their close friends had actually tried to persuade them to open up a restaurant or a bar and grill. But Lance loves his job as a detective, same goes to Leila with her professorship in NYU.

Lance sighed as he took out his cellphone and searched for his sister’s name. He desperately needs to talk to someone about this frustrating case…and about the other matter that’s been demanding a space in his mind. Ever since the nightmare, he’s been avoiding his bedroom. He had been sleeping on his sofa bed and it really sucked.

He was about to press call when his cellphone rang. The screen said ‘Henry Fields, HPD’. Damn it. Why can’t they just leave him alone for a while?

Lance slides his finger to answer the call, “What is it, Fields?”

“Whoa, kid. Why are you so testy today?”

“Maybe because someone annoying just keeps on irritating me to no end. What the hell do you want now?”

“Okay, first of all, I knew nothing about you getting cornered in the bathroom by Nolan Ross until I asked him why you were throwing a tantrum earlier. Second, I, obviously, have nothing to do with that event either. And lastly, just get over it. It’s done and he did make it up to you, right?”

Lance knew his partner had nothing to do with that. He figured Nolan would eventually find out how he was able to get past him. You can’t con the conman after all. He just want to vent on anything or anyone. He still wouldn’t accept his visions and he won’t let it come true. He glanced at the basket before grudgingly said, “Whatever, man. Just why did you call?”

“I’m on my way to your place. I’m almost there.”

Lance frowned. His expression a mixture of appalled, confused, and a bit of skepticism. “What?! And why the hell are you going here?”

“To help you loosen up. I’ve noticed you’ve been tensed and stressed lately.”

“Of course I would be! This damn case is ruining my plans!”

“It’s not just about this case, Lance. I know it and you know it.”

“No, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Just, please, leave me alone. I’m too exhausted to deal with this.”

“Too late. I’m already here.”

True enough. The knocking on the door indicated Henry’s arrival, much to Lance’s frustration. He puts down the cell phone and headed to the door.

Lance opened the door and was about to throw an insult to his partner when he realized that the latter was not alone.

He gives a flinching glare to Henry before settling his cool gaze on the other person beside him. Sending Henry a death glare was easy, but giving his companion the same treatment made it very difficult for him, especially when all Lance could see when he looks at those eyes were the last moments of the vision he had. He was still able to muster enough anger and hatred into his gaze, but it was lesser in conviction than the usual. And it did not go unnoticed by Henry, but he kept the observation to himself. Lance was clearly not in the mood for playful banters. Henry happens to love his life, thank you very much.

“What are you doing here, Mr. Ross?” Lance asked icily.

Nolan ignored the tone and the pointed stare that matched it. He knew Lancelot Irwin was a difficult guy, and that it will be tough to win him over, but Nolan wants him. And he’ll do anything to get this guy. “Just helping out Henry to carry the booze.” He says with a sweet smile as he brought up two six-packs of bottled alcohol.

The blond’s smile caught Lance off-guard and it was making the butterflies in his stomach flip and do somersaults. Lance turned his attention to his partner instead and said, “You didn’t tell me you were bringing someone else with you.”

“Oh, come on, Lance. Don’t be too hard on Nolan. He’s just being a nice guy. Aren’t you going to let us in?” Henry grinned.

Lance hesitated. He glimpsed at Nolan and let the battle brew inside him. A very small part of him wanted to drag the blond inside and welcome him to his home. He crushed that part mentally and buried it under a virtual grave. That is dangerous territory to explore. He wouldn’t let himself come near that again.

_Think fast, Lance._ He searched mentally for any plausible excuse. He sighed in relief when he finally thought of something.

“Just a second.” Lance reached for something behind the door. “I was actually heading out when you called me.” The redhead put his black overcoat around him and sent them an apologetic smile.

“Hang on, kiddo. You’re lying, right?” Henry narrowed his eyes at him, daring Lance to lie to him.

Nolan looked disappointed for a second before he masked it behind an empathetic expression. “Must be work again, then?”

Lance raised a brow in irritation, “I’m not lying. And yes, it’s work. Something I can’t share to just anyone about.” It was the first time Lance saw Nolan show that kind of expression, and he felt bad about it. But he forced himself to shrug it off.

The young detective locked his door, waved them a quick goodbye and headed downstairs. He didn’t wait for them even though they were also headed to the parking lot at the basement of the condominium.

Lance really is heading somewhere for work, but he is supposed to do it tomorrow. One of his reliable CIs tipped him about someone in the streets who had legit grudge against Conrad Grayson. This person also had the means and capability to end the ex-governor. Well, it is perfect timing, actually. He’d never been so relieved about being saved by work.

====================================================================

“He’s clearly avoiding me.” Nolan groaned when they reached their own cars in the parking lot.

“Yeah. But he’s not lying about the work.” Henry said in irritation. That part about going out for work is somewhat true, but everything else isn’t. Lance must have had an appointment with someone in a later date and just decided to do it now.

“I know.” Nolan knew how good Lance is in making excuses and finding his way out of unpleasant situations. He’d been at the receiving end of that for weeks now.

“What I don’t understand is why he’s going out of his way to avoid you? Seriously, Nolan, what did you do?”

“If I knew what that is, don’t you think I’d be doing something about it? I swear the first time I saw him was in Emily’s beach house. And I don’t think I did or said something back there that would offend him.”

Henry suddenly snapped his fingers, “That’s it! Back at the beach house!” Lance’s odder than his usual odd behavior started after that interview. If he remembered correctly, Lance had flashes back there.

“What? Care to share, detective?” Nolan frowned at him.

Henry can’t tell outsiders about Lance’s ‘talent’. No one in the department and police force is allowed to let others know. Before Lancelot Irwin was transferred to them, the whole department, even those who didn’t have to work directly with him, were required to sign a confidentiality agreement.

“Don’t worry about it. I got it covered.” Henry assured him before he went inside his car. The older detective nodded to himself. He is going to do everything he can to find out what those flashes were about. Lance said Nolan cannot be trusted and he implied that the latter is a bad guy. But according to Henry’s gut, it’s the opposite. And Henry’s gut is never wrong. Nolan may not have a good reputation, but he is a good person.

Henry rolled his window down and called out for the blond, “Hey! Just leave everything to me. I’ll have it figured out soon. Just don’t lose hope, ok?” He grinned at Nolan before driving out of the lot.

Nolan just stood there for a long while, thinking carefully about what to do next. He chuckled at Henry’s last words. Who said anything about him losing hope? He never doubted that he can make Lance like him. The redhead may be stubborn now, but he’ll come around a little bit later. Nolan will make sure of it.

======================================================

The moon had finally claimed its place on the dark skies. The Red District, is at its busiest, filled with the usual crowds of professionals and their clients, and of silent and quick dealings.

Lance parked his car in an isolated and dark alley along the Red District. This part of the county is considered the most dangerous and the dirtiest, in every way possible. Lance had never been afraid of the people in this neighborhood. He’d earned the respect of half the people in that area, while the others still want to off him for being a cop in the wrong neighborhood, but of course, no one had the guts to do that yet.

A few minutes later, a figure of an average-sized woman appeared around the corner several meters from Lance’s car. The woman walked casually, looking behind her for a couple of times, and stopped in front of Lance’s passenger side. She opened the door and sat beside him.

“Fancy seeing you around here, detective. I thought our date won’t be until tomorrow night.” She said in a raspy but sweet voice.

Lance chuckled lightly, “Change of plans, Izzy. I heard you’ve got something for me.”

“Oh, honey, I’ve got a lot of things for you,” Izzy leaned into the light and flashed her rows of perfect white teeth.

“I’m not here to play, love.” Lance turned to her.

Izzy flicked her straight black hair behind her, revealing enough of her ample bosom through the yellow deep V-neck blouse she was wearing. “If you keep calling me that, I might get the wrong idea.”

Lance looked appreciatively at her pert nipples through the thin blouse. He is here on business but that doesn’t mean he can’t look.

“Like what you see now, darling?” Izzy smirked at him.

Lance’s gaze went back up to her and snorted, “Izzy, I really am not here to play, so drop the foreplay and give me what I came here for.”

The woman sent him a mock-pout, “I thought you came here for me.” She laughed when Lance rolled his eyes in irritation. Izzy held out her hand in surrender, “Ok. I was just kidding. You know that. Anyway, from what I’ve heard, his name is Arthur Green. He owned a restaurant near the docks down the marina. When Conrad Grayson won, he tricked him into selling the place to him. He lost his only source of income, then soon his home and his family.”

“He’s got a motive, and so are the others, Izzy. I need more.”

“Then shut up and listen to me. Arthur Green was part of the Australian mob. He got out and migrated here from Australia.”

Lance took his notebook from the inside pocket of his suit and wrote the name and the basic information. He has to dig deeper and find out if this Arthur Green had the opportunity to murder Conrad.

Lance was about to call it a night when he felt Izzy’s hand rubbing his arm.

“Now for the payment, detective.” She purred as her other hand reached down his thigh.

Lance shuddered, not because of the pleasure the act was supposed to give, but because of guilt of something he wasn’t so sure about. The hand on his thigh was slowly moving up to his currently flaccid and clothed cock. Izzy seemed to notice it, too, when she said, “Huh…it looks like we have little bit of problem down there,” she smirked up at him before adding, “But it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Lance lightly grabbed her wrists before they could land on his pants. He gave her a warning look before saying, “Izzy, for the last time, I’m not here to play.” He took a thick roll of money from his pocket and placed it in her hands.

Izzy gladly took it and put it in her purse before realizing something. She looked at Lance suspiciously.

“What?” Lance asked in an irritated tone.

“Who is she?” she narrowed her eyes at him.

Now Lance is confused, “What? Who?”

“The reason why you’re refusing my charm.” She said in a matter-of-fact tone. She looked down at his pants then back up at him and added, “Or the reason why my charm isn’t working on you anymore.”

“I’m just not in the mood.”

“I don’t believe you. Come on, spill. Who is she? I can’t believe someone was finally able to break down your walls.”

_It’s not a she._ Where did that thought come from? Lance mentally kicked himself. But the thought was supplied by a sad image of Nolan Ross earlier. “Shut up.” He said more to himself than a reply to Izzy.

“Oh my god. You’re blushing! You’re really blushing!” Izzy exclaimed.

“Lower your voice, damn it. And I’m not blushing. It’s dark here how can you even see that?”

Izzy pressed her palms against Lance cheeks and cheered, “You’re face is hot! You really are blushing! Who is she? Just tell me, I promise, I won’t tell anyone.”

Lance ignored her and started the engine. “Get out of my car, Izzy, or I’ll kick you out myself.”

Izzy stuck out her tongue at him, “I pity that girl. Even though you are great in bed, you won’t be a good boyfriend.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Get out.”

Izzy rolled her eyes at him and slammed the car door shut.

“Take care of yourself, Izzy.” Lance waved at her.

“You, too, Lance.” Izzy shook her head at him and walked back to where she came from.

================================================================

Lance checked the time on his dashboard before he went out of his car. It said 12:01 AM. He yawned and stretched out a bit before he entered the elevator and pushed for the 19th floor.

Lance leaned against the side of the elevator and waited until he reached his floor. His mind went over to the possibility of this Arthur Green committing the murder. It’s a long shot, but at least he’s got something. His thoughts were interrupted by the soft _ding_ of the elevator _,_ indicating that he reached the 19th floor. He began playing with his room keys as he walked to his room.

Lance almost dropped his keys when he sees the familiar mop of blond hair. Nolan Ross is sitting at the floor beside his door. His knees are up, and his arms are crossed on top of them. His head is at his side, and his eyes closed. His breathing is even. He clearly is sleeping. Beside him is a pack of 6-bottles of vodka and a note.

The redhead quietly approached him like an antelope trying to walk around a sleeping lion. Lance crouched down and took the note.

In Nolan’s neat handwriting, it said,

_I know you don’t like beer. Henry said so._

_He also told me that you’re quite fond of vodka,_

_So I took the liberty of choosing the best one for you._

_I hope you like it._

Lance looked at the bottles then at Nolan. _Why are you so persistent?_ He wanted to ask Nolan just that, but Lance did not want any confrontation with the blond. It will make things more complicated. _I turned down a good lay because of you_. He added bitterly.

The young detective carefully picked up the pack and quietly slid into his room. The pack is a good payback for messing him up with Izzy. He’ll take it, but that doesn’t mean he’d let the guy in his home.

Lance put the pack on the island and grabbed one. He didn’t bother reading the label, he just twisted it open and took a gulp. The taste was nice: a good combination of sweetness from chocolate and of bitterness from the vodka. He took another gulp and decided that he liked Nolan’s taste in alcohol. He licked his lips as his mind lingered back to the man outside his door.

He shook his head before his thoughts even went further. It must be the booze, even though he doesn’t get drunk easily. He put the pack in his fridge but kept the bottle in his hand. He drank while he tracked down everything about Arthur Green in the International Crimes Database on his computer. He was exhausted but he needs a heads up before he could present the viable suspect to the director tomorrow.

A couple of hours later, he went to his living room and retired to his sofa bed. But no matter what he did, he couldn’t fall asleep. It must be the guilt eating at his mind that refrained him from dosing off even though he desperately wants to.

He knew what he was supposed to do. With a frustrated growl, he took a new blanket, and some clothes from his walk-in closet and dropped them on the bed in his bedroom.

It was already 2 AM. Nolan must have woken up and decided to leave. He couldn’t possibly be still out there. Lance argued with himself, but he decided to check anyway.

But Nolan was still there in the same position, his breathing even. Lance sighed as he squatted down to his level; he crossed his arms around his knees. Nolan’s head was hanging out on the door’s side, so Lance could perfectly see his sleeping face. Nolan seemed uncomfortable with his position, but his exhaustion must have gotten the better of him. A few strands of hair were partially obscuring the view, and Lance was very tempted to tuck them away behind the blond’s ear. He stopped himself before he could touch the socialite’s face and decided to tap his shoulder instead.

“Mr. Ross. Wake up.” Lance shook him with a little more force.

Nolan stirred a little but nothing else happened.

“I can’t carry you inside, Mr. Ross. I don’t want to overestimate my strength. You can’t sleep out here. You might get mugged or something.” Lance explained while he continued shaking the man.

Nolan finally made a movement: he leaned his head back against the wall and slowly opened his eyes. Nolan almost chuckled at the sight that greeted him: Lance was wearing matching checkered green and blue pajamas. The young detective doesn’t seem like someone who bothered with sleeping wears. Instead, a sloppy smile made its way on his mouth, which did things to Lance’s chest – he seemed to have forgotten how to breathe for a moment.

“You can’t sleep out here, Mr. Ross.” Lance repeated. He was about to stand up so he could let the man in when Nolan grabbed his hand and looked him straight in the eye.

Lance was paralyzed. Whether by the sudden static he felt where Nolan is holding him or by the intensity behind the gaze the blond had on him or maybe both, he doesn’t know. He was too afraid to move or to talk, he just stared back at the other man, waiting for him to do the doing or the talking.

Nolan kept his grip on Lance’s hand light but firm, in case the latter pulls back. When Lance said or did nothing, Nolan’s confidence increased a little. It was the first time he was finally able to touch the redhead and to study his face in close proximity. There were tints of red on Lance’s cheeks, Nolan could smell faint odor of vodka. The alcohol must have caused the blush on Lance’s face. Nolan’s mind began playing with the idea of doing _things_ to the redhead that will make the latter blush harder.

Lance saw the pupils in Nolan’s eyes dilate. He knew he should pull away now. He should. But he couldn’t. His rational side must have shut off the moment Nolan touched him. He felt his face grow hotter when Nolan’s grip on him got a little bit tighter.

Nolan’s lips and throat suddenly went dry. He used his tongue to wet his lips. Lance’s eyes followed the movement. Nolan suppressed the smirk from forming on his mouth when he felt Lance’s sharp intake of breath. The redhead clearly feels something for him. But why is Lance holding back? Nolan wanted to just close the gap between them and kiss him, but he knew he has to do it the right way this time.

“I’m sorry.” Nolan finally said, his tone huskier than necessary. His eyes filled with sincerity.

Lance was taken aback by the sudden apology. One moment they were eye-fucking each other and now they…aren’t. “E-excuse me?” he asked, his voice cracking a little.

“If I did or said something that offended you, I apologize.” Nolan explained.

Lance felt his rational self coming back. Nolan Ross is trouble. He can’t be involved with him any further. But they’re both exhausted, he can’t deal with this now. Lance’s guilt still keeps him from leaving the blond freezing outside, so he just said, “You can sleep inside.”

Nolan nodded and thanked him. He reluctantly let go of Lance’s hand before they stood up and went inside.

Lance’s unit had a long and narrow hallway. The lights inside the room were turned off. Despite the absence of artificial light, the room was not entirely dark. Moonlight and the nightlights of South Hamptons kept the place well lit.

There was a door on the immediate right side of the entrance. Nolan guessed it was a walk-in closet. He noticed the coatrack in the corner, he shrugged off his coatdress and looked at Lance for permission.

Lance had been studying Nolan’s reactions ever since they got in. He was nervous because his home is definitely far from Nolan’s own. He almost startled when Nolan looked at him. The latter held out his coatdress and tilted his head towards the coatrack. Lance just nodded and waited for him.

A long two-shelved shoe rack was beside the closet door. Nolan took off his shoes and placed them inside. Lance handed him a pair of indoor slippers before they left the hallway.

The silence continued until they reached the living room. The first thing that Nolan noticed was the floor-to-ceiling glass windows; even his sunken kitchen had the glass window. The next thing that caught his attention was the lack of definite walls and separate rooms and doors. A wide sofa bed occupied the middle of the room, across it is a flat screen television. A half-risen wall separated the living room and the sunken kitchen on the left side. The elevated entertainment room was situated on the other side of the living room. There is a billiard table in the middle of it and a small home theater at the far end of the room. There’s still some room in there but the staircase was obscuring the view. Nolan also saw the bar under the staircase.

Lance silently sighed in relief when Nolan looked appreciatively around his home. The latter smiled in admiration.

“Your place is nice.” Nolan turned to him.

“Thank you.” Thank gods he didn’t bother to turn on the lights, or else Nolan would see him blushing again.

“I know you’re tired. I’ll just sleep down here.”

“Uh, no. Uhm, you can take my bed.” Lance flushed at the double meaning.

Nolan glanced at the stairs, “It’s okay. This is your home.” He was startled when he felt Lance grasp his wrist. He looked down at their hands then back up at Lance. If only there was enough light to see Lance’s face, Nolan would see that the other was also startled with what he did.

Lance felt the same static from earlier when he held Nolan’s hand. His rational side, once again, had lost the battle.

Without much hesitation, the redhead led Nolan up the bedroom.

There were no doors. The room was open, and the walls were only half-erected. From up here, Nolan could see the living room, the sunken kitchen and some part of the entertainment room below. A king-sized bed occupied most of the space. There were some clothes on top of it. The upper half of the bed was filled with pillows. Even without touching it, Nolan knew the beddings were cotton and silk.

“You should sleep here, detective. I can’t take your bed. I’m not even welcome here.” Nolan felt Lance tense beside him, and noticed that the latter was still holding his wrist.

“I haven’t been sleeping up here for months now,” Lance couldn’t possibly tell him the real reason so he added the next and more reasonable explanation, “The Grayson case keeps me awake most of the time, so I just take a nap downstairs.”

Before Nolan could argue again, Lance continued, “If you need anything, just call me. The bathroom is downstairs, just turn right behind the staircase. I’m really tired, Mr. Ross. I still have to go to work later.” He let go of Nolan’s wrist and left the blond alone in the room.

Lance sighed in relief when he reached to bottom of the stairs. What the hell was he doing? Wasn’t he supposed to be avoiding Nolan Ross? Lance shook his head. He clearly needs to sleep so he can have the strength to question his sanity when he wakes up later. Yeah. He’ll do just that.

 


End file.
